The Wilting
by Berubi
Summary: He's devolved from slime, Chris..." Julia once said. "No good for you at all."/"Oh I think you should give him a chance...he's actually quite cultered."/ "The bacteria in between his toes do not count..."
1. M e s s a g e

**M e s s a g e**

The railling was all that supported her now as she leaned over the wrought iron balcony to inhale the savory evening air. Wearily, she observed the people across the way sitting at round mosaic tables at _Café Dama de Honor: a _yellow, neoteric abode, elaborate with the fashions of the old world. And it was evident in their admiring gestures at their surrounding that the customers enjoyed the rich culture shock most cafés lacked. Christie gave a half-smile at the thought, for how lively they were: speaking on their phones, pointing out their orders to the waitress, hushing their children. Even the marble woman coyly covering her mouth, in mid-skip seemingly sprang to life on her stone pedestal in Christie's moist, hazel eyes. She breathed deeply as she knew the life they each possessed was being sucked out of her. And as she exhaled, her very breath was vacuumed past her into the apartment.

He was home. She was tired.

She remained still and kept her gaze on a young couple around sixteen or seventeen sharing a sundae. Still dressed in their school clothes, the two, a petite blonde haired, brown eyed girl and a boy of her equal appearance sat next too one another. Cheerfully the young girl teased her closed-eyed lover with her spoon, pressing it to his lips and stealing it back until he clamped down on the utensil and he inwardly chuckled from the cold sensation on his tongue. Christie's eyes narrowed as she frowned, almost envious yet remorseful for the girl who playfully touched the boy's cheek. She dreamt of going down there and warning the two to tend their actions wisely but the beat of two shoes against the wall brought her back to her reality.

"Chris...Christie...?" his heady spanish voice moaned._"¿Dónde estás?"_

Sighing, she turned and dreadfully strode to the kitchen. "Right here." She said flatly.

"Baby...I'm 'ungry..." he stated.

"There are leftovers from last night if you want _pernil._"

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. "Warm't for me?"

Stoically she walked past his dreary, following eyes and pulled out a dish of pork pieces atop of white rice and beans from the fridge. Placing the plate in the microwave, she inched left to lean against the counter to now directly face across from him. But her eyes kept to the upper right corner of the room where a cobweb danced in thin air, whipping back and forth violently against both the ceiling and the wall. She was desperate to focus on something other than the hoggish sounds her boyfriend was making from his bottle.

He knew something was off. She seemed more aloof than usual and his conscious was just sober enough for him to call her out on it. Sipping one last sip, he posed the question,"Wha's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Your lying. Wha's wrong?"

"Please don't start tonight."

"I'm only askin' why you refuse to act like you used to." he nearly slammed his bottle on the white counter top.

"I am the same as ever!"

"Another lie. You haven't been the same since last month. Or is this because of last week?" He drew himself to her left just as she covered her left bicep from his view.

Christie slid to her right away from his harsh breath. "No." she sharply said

"Den wha's't? Ah?" he hissed

"Miguel..."

"Why're you actin' dis way?" he seized her wrist as she stepped back.

"Let me go right now!"

"Tell me why?" he squeezed her wrist tightly

"Why what?" she snapped as she jerked herself free.

"Why you don' wanna touch me? Or be near me?"

"Miguel go somewhere and leave me alone! Why do you always need to fight with me?"

"I'm no'fightin' wit'ou! You're fightin' wit'me! Tell me wha's wrong!"

"I have nothing to tell you I—" Christie pulled herself away from his burning gaze."I-I need to calm down—this yelling is no good for me and I shouldn't be standing in front of this microwave anyway. . ."

Miguel was baffled by her sudden demeanor. "What're you talkin' about? Wha's wrong wit the microwave?"

Christie slapped her hand over her eyes and turned back to him. Then she firmly pushed her hands down at her sides. "Do you really want to know what's wrong with me? Why I've been acting different?"

"Well?"

A scowl snatched the brunette's face as she pulled Miguel's hand and place it on her abdomen. A confusing wince abruptly transmorphed into a shocked visage.

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEP!**

A/N: This is just a one shot for now. If the reviews are good, I may consider writing a full story, seeing how this is the first Christie x Miguel Story...ehhh who knows...? :]


	2. N o means Y e s

**N o means Y e s **

_(For PoeticThighs who needs her fix lol)_

"Did you eat?" he asked, letting go of his fork.

"Yes." She lied.

"Oh? When?" he saw through her rushed response.

"Before you came home." she quickly fibbed. Christie turned away from him and looked at the white shaggy carpet below her feet. "I'm not hungry so stop asking."

Miguel chortled. Her beauty truly complimented her feisty attitude and blatant answers. It was one of the many proverbial "little things" he liked about her: she always had an answer. Not always nice ones or good ones or the ones he was looking for, but they were proof enough to him someone was listening, albeit indifferently. He lead a heavy, callous finger down the side of her neck leisurely, sending the sensation of crawling ants along the crook. An amatorial chirr was his pleased reaction to the raised bumps on her skin that grew more intense the slower he ran her right shoulder. But Christie knew his inebriated phases all too well and gently, she laid his hand on his lap to stood up from the black leather couch.

"Wher'ou goin'? Come back…" he pleaded with yearning arms.

"Bed. I'm tired." Aloofly, she strode past him down the hall to their room. From in between the crack of the door, Miguel could see her nude form for a few seconds before she donned a violet night gown and rushed into their master bathroom. Miguel simply smirked: even small of her back even had that intense rash like her shoulder.

With a groan he shut off the living room lights, tossed his dish in the sink and trailed after her. "Well I'm not…"

"-ou nevah ahr…" she managed to choke up through the minty foam in her mouth. From the corner of her eyes she noticed his shirtless body hop onto the far end of the bed and begin stroking her side of it. Trying her best to ignore him slapping the sheets, rubbing his side and giggling all at once, Christie tried to focus on the issue of her newly acquired wrinkles that lined her bleary, twenty-two year old face. But even she snarled at the grotesque details and chose to realign her attention to her left. Then the Brazilian's eyes shot wide open with disgust.

"Oh no…Miguel, no!" she scolded, abruptly finishing her routine.

He winced. "Ahh…no what?"

With her hands on her hips, she shook her head. "We are not doing that."

"Doin' what?" he innocently chuckled.

"You know what." She gestured at his pants. "Now put _that_ away."

Miguel patted the bed for her to lay next to him. "Oh…there's nothin' wrong wit'us makin love now…"

"Says you. What if something happens?"

"Nothin' will." He persisted.

Turning the light out Christie looked over her shoulder. "Oh yeah, how do you know?"

"My father once tol'me when I was a boy that—"

"I said no." she sternly stated, forcing the grey toile covers over her. "The last thing I need is another dickhead…"

Miguel's face brightened up with a toothy smile, "¡Ay Pícara!, I never hear you speak to me that way…"

Christie wormishly rolled onto her left side away from him. "There's a first for everything and this will be the first time we don't do it when you're this way."

"Baby…baby…please…? What am I supposed to do with this?" he nudged her with his pelvis.

Christie flipped over to face him and with a chagrin smile, she bellowed. "OH GOOD GOD! GO TO THE BATHROOM! NO IS NO!"

Miguel tightly enveloped her in his arms "Mmh…it's too far away… can't we jus—"

"OH! YOU PIG! NO!" she squealed and squirmed in his arms. "How dare you even think of me that way?"

Confused, he only laughed, "Wha'way?"

Angrily she shouted, "As your personal sperm dumpster! You're revolting! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

"I did no'say that!"

"Umm close enough!" she whined, trying to maneuver herself over him and forcing his arms back. Catching her before she was able to touch the ground on the other side, Miguel squeezed her rear and made her snap back forward. "OH! That's it! I'm leaving; sleep in here by yourself!"

"Uh-uh! No!" managing to keep her seated on his abdomen, he yanked her pony tail out of her hair and held her back with one arm.

"MIGUEL! GIMME MY SCRUNCHIE BACK! AND STOP LAUGHING YOU ASS! I'M BEING SERIOUS!"

"N-no!"

"MI-GUEL!"

"Chris-tie!" he mimicked.

"UGH!"

Miguel playfully shoved the hair tie behind his back and folded his hands behind his curly mane. "Come get it if you wan'it so badly..."

Momentarily defeated and doubly apprehensive, Christie's face furrowed in fustration as she laughed with her twitching hands before her. The air was tense, sharp with an ominous hint that made the the tenacious Spaniard close his eyes arrogantly and chuckle; intuitively, he knew something crazy was going to happen.

And then, Christie matched her lips delicately with his. Miguel's eyes popped open as she nuzzled her nose with his and moaned. As he broke their kiss confusedly, he held her now lustful form an inch or so away from him and pursed his lips. "Isn't it a little too soon for such mood swings?"

"No," leering, she waved her black hair band in front of him and whispered. "Not soon enough."

"How did yo-?"

"Just shut up." she breathed, closing the space between them once more.


	3. N o w and T h e n

**N o w and T h e n**

Finally, she was here! Christie could not believe after a month of planning (or conspiring as Miguel remarked one night as he prepared the guest room) that her best friend had finally managed to find the time to visit.

"_I'm off to Taiwan to continue my research there, Chris." _the Brazilian girl recalled her saying long ago. _"Some locals I met in Japan mentioned these inexplicable anomalies growing on the flora that may be prolonging natural senescence. Isn't that interesting?"_

Although it took the help of a dictionary to understand her, it was not necessary for Christie to understand how fascinating her friend's life was. To the sheltered girl from Sao Paolo, how much more captivating could a young woman be? Waking in one country and falling asleep in another, acquiring vast stores of knowledge like a Rhodes scholar from every bank in the world, even becoming a crucial activist for her fellow man and the environment. Indeed, she was of noble purpose and intent, and was intuitive and keen in all senses! Through her humble exterior, she still possessed the same appetence of the material world like any other woman and for that matter, kept her physique prime. Indeed she was a true character, an irreplaceable friend who, as Christie had once told her, was as sublime as Lara Croft but as demure as Maureen O'Sullivan.

Now as she impatiently waited for an application to load on her phone, she excitedly scanned over the broad lines of the porcelain skinned woman across from her. Clad in her customary denim attire, she delicately sipped at her coffee and crossed her legs on the black armchair.

"Julia," Christie sang, noticing the American girl's grin on both sides of her mug. "I'm just so happy that you're here, you have no idea..."

Julia slid forward to the edge of the chair. "As am I, Christie! I missed you so much and the sporadic communication was dreadful in the time between!"

Yet Julia could not completely perpetuate Christie's emotions. As her own brown orbs rolled down the new, leaner figure before her, Julia failed to believe the prior reassurances of her friend claiming to be the same strong person from long ago. Anxiously, she twisted the mug in her hands and eyed the bulging blue tiered blouse resting on Christie's lap."So how does it feel?"

"Well, it's interesting, Juls. To be honest, I'm super emotional and my body kind of fights itself, you know? Like one minute I'm full of energy and raring to go and then the next I'm fatigued and sick as a dog. On top of that, every thing below my belly button is tight, like there are little hands pushing against my insides and they're not letting up."

"Ha. That was a mouthful, but I guess that puts things in perspective."

"I know! See, I told you! I'm on an energy spurt!" Christie laughed. " But seriously, aside that its not so bad. I kind of like the attention I get from Miguel."

With meager eyes, Julia cocked her head much in the manner as a foul and squawked. "Really?"

"Yes. He's so much more...gentle and sweet and aware and..." She trailed off, following her words into a daydream.

Julia drew back and placed the mug on the coffee table. "So how is he usually then?"

"Usually he- oh Julia, wait! I didn't mean for that to sound that way!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Like he was some kind of abusive jerk before I got pregnant... because he wasn't."

"Whoa, girl...I wasn't even thinking of it like that." Julia noted Christie's reaction to a possible double meaning in her own words.

"Honestly. He's a good guy. He just has his days..." Christie didn't mean for her voice to sound as assuring as a dying mouse. But she could not help herself; she did not wish to provoke a fight or to begin having second thoughts. Yet fearfully she rested her hands on her bump and began to recall her friend's disapproving passes on Miguel. Since Julia had a adopted a sisterly role, she made it her obligation to keep Christie safe from herself, stating she could be naive at times and had an indecisive heart but no less a good one. It was her firm belief that men like Miguel only sought after girls like Christie for carnal pleasure, keeping them and being loose with them to feed their insatiable appetites. And now as Christie stared down at her belly, she began to feel Julia's words become justified against hers.

_"He's devolved from slime, Chris..." Julia once said. "No good for you at all."_

_"Oh I think you should give him a chance...he's actually quite cultered._

_"The bacteria in between his toes do not count..."_

Sensing the thick tension mounting Julia rushed to sit next to her. "Hey! Let's just forget that, ok? Umm...Oh! New topic. I have something for you."

"What is it?"

"A letter." Julia searched through her leather bag.

"A letter? From who?"

Hesitantly she replied, "Steve."

For a moment, Julia stopped her search to see Christie's expression. To her surprise, it wasn't anger or contempt but blank, and partially hidden by her loose Botticelli curls. Nervously, she continued to dig, fearing this time she truly upset the silent girl next to her. "Julia..."

"I know. But I really can't keep this from you. Its against the law." Julia dismally joked

"I guess."

"Perhaps you should just take a peak at it?"

Christie halfheartedly laughed, "or do you want me to so you can take a peak at it?"

"Maybe." She gingerly smiled.

Christie opened the envelope and read of over the neatly written lines that begged of forgiveness and promised compromise. As she continued to read, Christie felt her heart flutter between every line because what she understood of his plea was his new proposal for getting back to where they once were. Deeper so, she felt temptation taking its qualm on her heart. "When did you get this Julia?"

"About a month ago. We had a run-in in New York. He said he would call you; has he?"

"No. But Julia I-" a fanfare and jingle interrupted Christie. "Never mind, it finally loaded..."

"What did?" Julia asked, taken aback by the sudden change in conversation

"This baby name app."

"Umm..."

"You wanna search with me?" Christie laughed, her face contorting between a pout and a smile.

Julia was again surprised by this sudden change in emotion but realized Christie was on the verge of tears. She inwardly cursed the crazy hormones with pregnancy but obliged. " Yeah, Sure."


End file.
